Shall I compare thee to a drunken sailor?

Written 5 September 2002

Shall I compare thee to a drunken sailor?
A pirate's trade you've plied these many days.
And yet, like Captan Ahab, famèd whaler,
Misfortune you besets. I'll count the ways.

The mut'nous rabble tests your stout resolve;
'Tis many times you've had to walk the plank.
Beyond our ken their tortures are, involv-
ing (as they do) a feather and a crank.

A shrieking parrot's by your ear, and high
above the knee your leg's been cut in twain.
A steering wheel juts wildly from your fly;
It steers your fragile psyche quite insane.

Your hand is gone; a hook's but what remains.
But worst of all's your name, Sir Seaman Staines.

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